The Sweet Boy

A sweet boy stood and picked a flower for his mama. It was purple, and wild and free. It reminded him of her, for it and she were the two most beautiful things he had ever seen. He brought the flower in and gave it to her.

"Can you put this beautiful flower in some water, mama?" he asked. "I picked it for you, and I want you to keep it forever." And his mama did. "Thank you my sweet boy", mama said. And the little boy ran off happily.

Several days later, the boy came to check on the purple flower and found it gone.

"Where is your beautiful flower, Mama?", he asked.

"I had to throw it out, sweet boy", Mama smiled. "It was dead. But it was the most beautiful flower I have ever loved, and I thank you for thinking of me when you saw it."

The little boy cried.

"Don't cry boy", said his daddy. "Be strong. Don't cry over a little dead flower".

Some time later, the same sweet boy sat and colored a picture for his sister. He spent hours making it just right, knowing that she would love it. He used all of her favorite colors in it, so that she would know that he thought of her when he did it, and that he loved her enough to make it his best. When he gave it to her, she did love it! The boy felt so happy.

He said, "Will you hang this in your room forever, sissy? I made it just for you."

"You're such a sweet brother", she said. "I will".

Some weeks later, the boy went to get a toy from his sister's room, and saw that the picture was not on the wall anymore.

"Where is the picture that I made you?", he asked.

"It wouldn't stay on my wall", said his sister. "The last time it fell, it got all wrinkled up, and I threw it out". But it was the nicest drawing anyone ever made me, and I will love it forever", she said.

The little boy cried.

"Don't cry boy", said his daddy. "Be strong. Don't cry over an old picture".

And on and on it went, with the sweet little boy feeling things more deeply than anyone around him could understand. Crying over a lost stuffed animal, or having to throw out a sock with a hole in it. Every time, daddy said, "Don't cry boy. Be strong".

Many moons passed, and the little boy became a man. He didn't pick flowers anymore, for they all just ended up in the trash. He didn't' spend time making art for his loved ones, for it was much more efficient to just buy something at the store. He also didn't cry anymore. He had learned to be strong.

Then one day the man, much older now, got a phone call that his mama had died. He went home for her funeral. He sat through her service with his family, broken-hearted and lost. But he stayed strong for them. He held his sister's hand and he patted his dad on the back, and though his heart wept, his chin was stiff and his eyes were clear.

And his daddy said quietly, "What kind of son doesn't cry for his mama?"

And the man, who didn't think it possible, felt his heart break even more.